A Frozen Regent for a Dead Queen
by Seta Suzume
Summary: Veigue thought he understood what Milhaust would need to cope. - a Tales of Rebirth fic


"You froze Claire once, didn't you?"

Veigue wondered how Milhaust knew. Through the late queen, probably, or from Claire herself. He nodded. It wasn't exactly one of his favorite subjects, even when he could be coaxed into casual conversation.

"You can handle your Force well now."

Another nod. It was tiring to remain here in the capital in the midst of everything. He had traveled the entire globe in the course of his journey, but, at heart, Veigue still longed for the quiet and cold of Sulz.

Milhaust had extended an invitation to Veigue and Claire to stay in Balka- not just for "as long as you like" as he was allowing Hilda and Tytree and the rest, but more permanently. Veigue doubted it had much to do with him, although no real animosity remained between he and Callegea's interim regent. The offer was focused on Claire. She had proved herself in the eyes of many of the remaining authorities of the kingdom. She would have a position as a court advisor if she desired it. ...If she accepted that offer, Veigue would resign himself to a life in Balka- to the bustle, to the noise, to allowing any fame due him as a "hero" to fade into the background until he was known only as the husband of Councilor Lungberg (with Agarte gone so suddenly, it had hit him like a brick how suddenly life could change, how in the blink of the eye he could lose her, how the next time it could be forever- he had already asked and she had said yes).

Apparently it wasn't so easy for Milhaust to continue with whatever line of thought he was pursuing. He cast a cool, uneasy stare over Veigue, waiting for him to speak up instead, or, perhaps, to gather his nerve.

"Preparations for Her Highness' funeral are moving apace," he said at last, dropping his gaze to the floor. His loose blond hair seemed drab these past three days without the queen. He stood a little smaller than before.

In his place, Veigue knew he would be feeling about the same. ...And reacting worse, probably. If Claire had died, he would have withdrawn into himself, unable to engage in more than the basic functions of life. He would have closed himself up into his room or gone out to wander the snowy forests near his home. Milhaust, even though his heart was breaking, was still managing to hold himself enough together to oversee the day-to-day business of running an entire country.

There were no Lindblums left, Waltu had said. They would make Milhaust king if he would accept the crown.

Veigue wondered if he would take it.

Claire thought he would. "If he doesn't work to carry on Agarte's will, what does he have left to live for?" she had said. There would be other things, later, that would help him regain his happiness, but at a dark time such as this, holding tight to the love and legacy of the late queen was a reasonable way to take his first steps forward.

One deep breath later, Milhaust raised his eyes to Veigue's once more and made his request. "I can't bear to put her to rest."

Veigue understood this. He could, all too easily, see himself doing exactly the same thing. "I can freeze her. My ice is so cold; it will never melt on its own from the warmth of the sun or the changing of the seasons. Only one with a powerful Force of fire can penetrate its depths."

"That's exactly what I'm looking for," the regent said, "Thank you, Veigue."

But, naturally, there were those who wanted the last Lindblum queen properly put to rest in Callegean soil. She was laid out in state for a funeral that concluded with a dummy interred in her place.

Her real body, frozen in a block of ice as tall and gorgeous as the throne she had once occupied, was tucked away in one of the deepest parts of the palace. Every person who entered the palace, from the highest general and advisor to the lowest servant was barred from entering - on pain of death.

Milhaust refused to take the crown, but not to rule. He would never sit on Agarte's throne. His chair as regent bespoke his enormous power, but compared to the seat of the kings and queens, it was small and plain.

He filled the icy room with candles, but aside from this, it remained dark and simple. He visited each day, once or maybe more. It became his private shrine.

And no one else entered (his two most trusted guards watched the door and he was not so paranoid yet so as not to take their words at face value).

But one other person knew. And, although he was a quiet person, he had a wife, a councilor, close to the new regent and closer to the late queen. And late at night, Milhaust lay awake, wondering if Veigue might have broken his word and spoke to Claire of what he had done. And later at night, still without a second of sleep to fortify him, Milhaust wondered if his secret might have spread any further and reached the ears of anyone else.

He summoned Veigue before him the following morning, at the earliest reasonable hour. "You haven't spoken to anyone, have you?"

Behind his calm eyes, Veigue questioned what it was that fed this madness in Milhaust's soul. His color and posture looked better than in the days immediately following Agarte's death, but behind that facade, a strange fire burned. Why bring this up now, two months later? "No, Lord Regent."

"Not even to Claire?"

"No, not even her," Veigue shook his head.

Milhaust stepped down from his throne and approached the stoic swordsman. He did not command Veigue to look into his eyes, but Veigue understood his intent. Milhaust stared him down. Yes, he believed what he saw in those blue eyes. It was good. Very good. Good for Claire, and better for the regent himself. His secret was safe. Only two men knew it.

When his blade returned to its sheath, that number was reduced to the safest number of all: just one.


End file.
